


The Taste of Water

by lemonlovely



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Aquatic therapy, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Injury Recovery, Permanent Injury, Post S3, Rating will change, Swimming Boys, Swimming Pools, fear of water, flangst, lifeguard!billy, slowish burn, swimteam!Steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23099545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonlovely/pseuds/lemonlovely
Summary: Swimming was extremely therapeutic. Billy had, in fact, said this many times, while he’d been teaching lessons. Sure, most of them had been for children learning to float, or doggie paddle, but it wasn’t just kids under the age of seven, some small enough they might take a shit in the pool if you weren’t watching out. There had been adults, too. Most of them had been there for exercise, like water aerobics, or there’d even been a gaggle of old broads who’d done that lame synchronized swimming in the lacy floral caps. Billy hadn't taughtthatone.But there’d also been the other group - adults with injuries or illness. Post war injuries, brutal car accidents, aching arthritis and bad, pain riddled joints. Those lessons had been more about using the weightlessness and pressure of the water, the motions themselves, as a form of therapy. There were few better alternatives, for some.Billy just never thought he’d be one of them.***Billy's using the indoor Hawkins pool for some aquatic therapy when an unwelcome visitor takes over the lane alongside his. He's not thrilled.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 21
Kudos: 94





	The Taste of Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April 3rd, 1986

Swimming was extremely therapeutic. Billy had, in fact, said this many times, while he’d been teaching lessons. Sure, most of them had been for children learning to float, or doggie paddle, but it wasn’t just kids under the age of seven, some small enough they might take a shit in the pool if you weren’t watching out. There had been adults, too. Most of them had been there for exercise, like water aerobics, or there’d even been a gaggle of old broads who’d done that lame synchronized swimming in the lacy floral caps. Billy hadn't taught _that_ one.

But there’d also been the other group - adults with injuries or illness. Post war injuries, brutal car accidents, aching arthritis and bad, pain riddled joints. Those lessons had been more about using the weightlessness and pressure of the water, the motions themselves, as a form of therapy. There were few better alternatives, for some. 

Billy just never thought he’d be one of them. 

Swimming had always been something else for Billy. It had always been an escape, he guessed. Some people coulda called it that. Either miles away from shore, even if he wasn’t far enough out to lose sight of his mother, or doing laps in the community pool back home when he used to take lessons. Back when he’d planned on growing up to be one of the lifeguards like he saw at Mission Beach. 

Like when he’d been twelve, and his eyes had lingered too long on their golden bodies lit up by the sun, oiled up, tank tops thrown off as they perched in their high chairs like eagles, eyes on the ocean. Far sighted binoculars at the ready, lethal whistles dangling silver from their throats. And Billy had wanted to be them. It wasn’t until later, maybe, that he’d understood it was more than that – the inklings that would _become_ more in later years. Was funny when you couldn’t tell the difference between wanting to be somebody, and liking them. The lines between the two blurred. He knew now, after fucking Heather Holloway what felt like a lifetime ago, it hadn't just been a _lifeguard_ thing. But he wasn't going to think about that. Her.

Swimming had been therapeutic in other ways maybe, even back then; a release of the body and mind where you could just go on forever and nothing could catch you. Running forever – no sound but the rush of water around your ears, the flurry of bubbles, the pounding of your own heart and the hush of breath in your lungs as you tipped your cheek for air.

He just never thought – that he’d - 

Well. It didn’t matter what he’d thought, did it? It was what it was, and you couldn’t change shit in this life. Life wasn’t good, and life wasn’t fair, and sometimes? Sometimes, you just got shit hand after shit hand. Was like that for some people. and Billy was one of ‘em. 

Billy’d been going to the Hawkins community center almost every other day for the past couple of months. After spending nearly six months in the hospital, and gritting his way through a lot (a LOT) of physical therapy bullshit, he’d finally gotten to the point that he could at least do this. And this was a helluva lot better than physical therapy and that witch that was always tellin’ him what to do, and nothing was ever good enough for her. Doloris could go bite the big one.

Now that he was on his own? He was good. He’d taught this shit. He knew what to do, like the back of his hand. He could have rattled it off to anybody that would listen, anybody that would care. But making his body do what his mind told it was another thing entirely. It was tiring. Not just tiring, exhausting. He’d been followed by this haunting fatigue for as long as he could remember – he couldn’t seem to remember a time anymore that he wasn’t tired.

Either way, the heat helped, and the water helped – the way the water lightened you, buoyed you. Couldn’t even feel gravity, almost. The heat sapped the pain out of those overtired muscles, easing his aching bones and joints that felt rusted over. It made him wish he was home, not for the first time, and not for the last. He wished he could just…walk into the ocean and let the saltwater do its work.

His mom – Neil always said she was back on her ‘hippy bullshit’ – had said that ocean water had a lotta ‘healing properties.’ And even if he wouldn’t have told his dad this, he’d always believed a lot of his mom’s ‘hippy bullshit.’ Like that was why people used Epsom salts in tubs – it helped. Something in the salt, or the magnesium, something. A lot of other beneficial minerals, too. It was all – scientific and shit, Billy’d aced most of his science classes. Was why the dead sea was so famous – it really worked, he thought. Wasn’t like she was just making shit up. But Billy couldn't even bring himself to get into a tub.

And there wasn’t an ocean for thousands of miles, so Billy was stuck with the shitty indoor Hawkins community pool that smelled like fuckin’ feet and chlorine. The outdoor pool was still shut down until the start of May, anyway. He took what he could get. Not like he’d go back there, anyway.

The smell of chlorine still made him sort of _nauseous_ but the longer he was in the pool, the less he could smell it, especially once he got his head under the water. Eventually he went nose blind to it, he guessed.

Billy had been swimming laps at the pool, (he was up to two) as well as doing water based exercises the best he could manage, until the pain wasn’t so bad anymore. He’d lost a lot of muscle mass, a lot of weight in general, while he’d been recovering. It was just – a lot to have to catch up on, when you couldn’t even work out properly. Lifting weights was out of the question, he’d been told, at least for now. Maybe forever.

Either way he’d been here off and on every week the past month or so now, and for the most part he didn’t get too many people rubber necking over it – over that guy that had gotten ‘crushed’ in the fire and subsequent collapse of Starcourt. Jesus people could look. He’d ignored them anyway, which helped – didn’t throw gasoline onto the fire, even if once upon a time? He absolutely would have. He just – didn’t give a damn anymore. He had more important things to focus on than what people _saw_ when they looked at him. 

But during all that time he’d been going to the pool, one thing had definitely not happened. And when Billy was finishing a lap, breathing hard and slapping an arm up to brace his forearm against the wet, tiled side, that exact thing happened. He just hadn’t expected it. 

There was someone new staring at him. 

Steve fucking Harrington was staring at him. 

Billy pulled his dark tinted goggles up to plop them on top of his head, where his hair was finally long enough to pull up into a messy, golden bun at the top of his head, tiny baby curls framing his hairline along his neck. He scowled over at Harrington, breathing hard as he braced his other forearm against the pool side, crossing them at the wrists. 

Harrington didn’t seem to get the message of Billy's dirty look, and just kept staring. And he – well he looked cute as shit. He was just sitting on the pool edge a few lanes down, scrawny legs hanging over, big feet dangling in the water. He was in a little pair of teal and purple swimtrunks, and he was wearing a matching teal swim cap. His goggles were hanging around his neck as he blinked owlishly at Billy with those pretty, big brown eyes – he clearly hadn’t gotten in the pool, only a little damp from the showers. Billy tried not to let his eyes linger. Instead, he let the thorns rise from his skin – more slowly, and not as jagged as they used to be. But still there. Always there.

“Why don’t ya take a Polaroid, Harrington. It’ll last you longer.” Billy frowned at him, letting a little poison sink into his words. He hadn’t expected Harrington to be one of the rubber neckers, trying to get a good look at the new town freak since the Byers’ got the hell outta dodge. 

“Huh? Oh!” Harrington yelped like a pup, as if he’d just gotten caught staring so openly. As if he’d forgotten he was doing it at all. “Oh I mean uh – sorry, sorry. Hey man.” He swallowed, and played around with his goggles around his neck. “I didn’t know you came here.” 

“Me? Been here for a while. Think the one t’say that here would be me. Don’t you got a fancy pool?”

“How’d you know that?” 

“Max said. You had those stupid pool parties last summer, had to drive her. Remember?” 

“Oh. Oh yeah.” Harrington got a funny little look on his face – like he felt bad or something, biting at his lower lip. 

He slid into the water seamlessly, with hardly a splash, where the water only reached just below his pink, perky little nipples. Jesus. Billy looked away. 

“Sorry – I mean…you could’ve, y’know. Joined us?”

But Billy’d never been invited. So he hadn’t. Too little too late. 

But no – that wasn’t fair, because Billy knew even if Harrington had invited him? He wouldn’t have stayed. He’d had so many better things to do with his time back then, a million other things, and now? He really couldn’t seem to remember what any of them were. Had they mattered so much? He didn’t think so. But maybe a pool party at Harrington’s he might’ve remembered. 

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time. So why you here.” Billy asked, each word edged with venom.

Harrington got a wry sorta look on his face, or like he looked a little amused maybe, like Billy was being funny. “Well I mean – I’m here to swim. It is a community pool, it’s for everybody.” He got a little wrinkle at the bridge of his nose, but his eyes were smiling. 

Well yeah, that was true, but now it meant Billy didn’t wanna go no more. Was for shit. He’d been able to ignore everybody else’s stares, but Harrington? He couldn’t. 

The water sloshed a little and Harrington ducked under the floating divider between the lanes, blinking water from his eyes as he popped up on the other side, so now he was in the lane right alongside Billy’s. And that just wasn’t cool either. Billy glowered over at him, but Harrington just kept wearing that little smile – like he was tryin’ to be friendly or somethin’. 

Billy kept his arms folded on the side of the pool, goggles up on the top of his head, frowning back. He couldn’t figure out what Harrington’s game was. 

“I didn’t know you were swimming here. I mean it doesn’t…hurt?”

“Swimming’s good therapy for a lot of injuries. Aquatic therapy.” Billy muttered down into the tiles, dripping chlorinated water from the tip of his nose as he continued to scowl, looking away. He’d gotten his ‘work’ voice on for a second. “ _Look it up_.” 

“I believe you,” Harrington said in a quiet voice. “I think I’ve heard that, I just didn’t think about it. I saw you teaching all of your classes before, when you -”

“You here since your big fuckin’ fancy pool’s empty, _King Steve_?” Billy cut him off. He wasn't teaching anymore.

“No. Our pool’s never actually empty. In the winter we just have a cover over it, sort of like a – like a big hot tub, I guess. It’s heated.”

That fuckin’ figured, little rich boy. “So?”

“It’s being cleaned today. So here I am. You know. Sometimes I like to mingle with the commoners.” Harrington winked real cute, replying to the king Steve jab. He thought he was real clever with the royalty puns, Billy guessed. 

“Yeah swimmin’ around with us peasants. What, you swim laps?”

“Sure. I mean, I was on swim team up until Sophomore year, and I guess it just kind of stuck with me. Uh…” He frowned a little, glancing down – the smile fading, a shadow of a wrinkle forming between his brows. “I quit the team, y’know. I sort of had some – trouble with the water, or I guess with pools in general. For a while.”

“That so?”

“Yeah. I don’t swim in mine so much, actually. But I figured I’d give it a shot out here.”

“Saw you a couple times at the pool, when I was working.”

“Yeah, but that was just ‘cause the kids wanted to go. I dunno if you noticed, but I tend to burn?” 

Billy _had_ noticed, actually. It had been hard to keep his eyes on Harrington, hidden behind the cover of his aviator shades, with Harrington laying around on the loungers baking himself brick red. A slight laugh startled out of Billy and he drew his arms back from the side, turning to face Harrington a little.

“Man you sat out there and cooked yourself up like a lobster, what’d you expect?”

“Okay, I wasn’t _cooking_ myself, I put on sunblock! I just thought I might tan, like suddenly one summer that’s gonna change. I mean you - ” he stopped himself, a flare of color in his cheeks, one that spilled down to his chest and…Jesus, Harrington had gotten a little thatch of chest hair since summer. Just a little. He hadn’t had that back in the school showers, that was for damn sure. Billy would have _noticed_.

Billy smiled slightly, a vague, wry twinge to the corner of his mouth. “What, you wanna tan up like me? That’s a gift you’re born with, pretty boy.”

“You’re sure it’s not all the suntan oil you use? C’mon, what’s the secret?” 

“Nah. No secret.” Billy huffed and sighed a little, glancing out over the surface of the pool. There weren’t many people here this time of day – the ceiling was high and towering above the blue still of the water, with glass tiled windows lining the archway high above. Spilling in sunlight. “Not like it matters now. Not much to look at now.” 

Harrington’s eyes dropped for a moment at that, dipping low to where the chlorinated water lapped gently against Billy’s chest – right at the top of his breastbone, and just below where his collarbone hollowed out. Where the jagged, angry gnarl of pale flesh, a ridged starburst lifted out of his skin was a pale white with the cold of the water, was barely visible. Billy didn’t lower himself into the water. He was done hiding that shit. 

It took a lot though. Not to lower himself low enough to blow bubbles through his nose and just sort of…float away like they’d never talked at all. Billy locked his knees to stop himself. He wasn't some FUCKING sideshow, and Harrington's eyes, somehow - of all of the people, his eyes were - 

“I don't think - " Harrington started.

“You gonna swim or what.” Billy snapped, not letting him finish. He didn't want to hear his pitying bullshit.

Harrington’s eyebrows lifted slightly at the sudden change in Billy’s voice, but he didn’t look mad or hurt or anything. He looked thoughtful,and didn't return the barb. Instead, his voice remained soft and easy. Open and - welcoming, somehow. 

“Sure. D’you wanna swim together?” 

“I’ll stay in my lane, you stay in yours.” Billy said, snapped his goggles over his eyes, and then pushed off from the wall into a stilted breaststroke, the best he could manage since he couldn't do the freestyle any more. Ignoring the aching burn in his chest, and his silent shadow in the parallel lane. 


End file.
